Not So Blessed
by R-dude
Summary: For some, immortality is a wistful dream, a fantasy. For others, it is an ambition, an unattainable goal. For Diana Wayne, it is nothing but a bitter reality.


_******Diana Prince of Earth******_

_******You have great love in your heart******_

* * *

**Not So Blessed  
**

~W~

He knows he will find her here. He spares not a glance to the majestic sight of the giant red star, steadily advancing towards the charred remains of a planet once called Earth. He, like her, has been here before, watching. He cannot stay long, lest he die from the red star's effects, but long enough.

She is easy to spot. Even if the Earth were not a burned wasteland without a trace of ever sustaining civilization or, indeed, life of any kind, even if he did not possess extraordinary senses in his vast repertoire of abilities, he knows where she'd be. The landscape is unrecognizable, undistinguishable from any other patch of molten rock, but billions of years ago, this particular spot used to be an area just outside a city called Gotham. He knows that a great residence once stood here, and that she used to call it home.

Personally, he doesn't really remember Gotham or the manor. His memory of so far back is little more than a haze, but he knows she is here. It's where she's sat, cross-legged and utterly motionless, for the last few thousand years since he last checked up on her.

He knows she is aware of his presence, she has been since he entered the solar system. Yet even as he slowly descends from the heavens and gently lands in a spot a few meters behind her, she doesn't turn or offer a greeting.

He waits, unsure, for a few minutes. When he realizes that it is up to him to initiate some form of conversation, he says, "Hello, Diana," and moves to sit beside her.

Her silence makes him consider repeating himself, but she returns his greeting in a flat, time-ravaged tone, "Hello, Kal. It's been a while." As if snapping out of a trance, her eyes focus and she turns to look at him. Her hair whips around her head as the winds, unhindered by the lack of any notable landmarks, blast across the heath around them. "You look older." Her voice has a terrible hoarseness to it, millennia of disuse the most likely cause.

He knows his hair is completely grey now and that he has more wrinkles, but he doesn't know if he should take it as small talk or a veiled insult. Such confusion was only ever brought upon by his words, not Diana's.

"And you...haven't changed one bit. Not that I expected you to, of course."

And it's true, she looks no older than her mid-twenties by human standards, exactly the same as when first he met her all that time ago. She had no scars then, but then again, he considers, she hadn't even closed her first million years. She was young.

Although her body is covered by a black suit with an elaborate "W" on the chest, her face and arms are uncovered. A thin, dark red line crosses her right temple and is lost in her hairline, and what must at one point have been a massive gash is now an angry red scar from her elbow to her palm. He can't conceive what might have inflicted wounds that her powers couldn't fully heal, but he does not bother to ask. He takes note of her pendant. It looks quite like a small metal box tied with a chain around her neck. The box has a "W" identical to the one on her suit.

She turns her head forward again, to the star that takes up most of the sky. She hates talking about age with anyone. Kal's grey hair and slowly withering body are just more proof that no one she ever knew or will ever know will live as long as she will. Even Kal, the strongest person she knows, a man who has been a steady presence through the four-something billion years of her existence, will eventually grow old and die. It's why she doesn't speak to him if she can avoid it. For untold years they have met only very rarely. Kal's wandering of the galaxy made the odds of such a chance meeting astronomically low. Even when they did meet, she avoided long discussions because they inevitably lead to memories…and memories only brought more pain.

"I thought you didn't go by Wonder Woman anymore," he says, pointing to her attire. He doesn't bother scanning the material to figure out what it is and why it can withstand the blasts from the growing star that will soon swallow the remains of this planet.

"I don't," she replies frostily. He wisely keeps from inquiring further, having a pretty good idea exactly what the symbol means. After a while, she speaks again, "I am no Champion anymore. The Amazons are gone, along with the remaining gods, and Themyscira is broken. You know that." Her voice catches a little when uttering the name of her homeland, but only Kal's superhearing could have picked up on it.

Themyscira...it's been a long time—many thousands of years—since she last allowed herself to remember her home, or what she'd done to it in her grief-filled rampage. She tries to stop the thoughts she's had countless times before, instead focusing her attention on the pensive Kryptonian sitting next to her. He ages well, she thinks. He looks to be in about his late fifties or early sixties, though neither number is at all similar to his actual age, and his features are handsome in their maturity. At least he isn't losing his hair, yet.

"Is it safe for you to be here, this close to a red sun?" she inquires. Her voice gets clearer the more she speaks, losing its raspiness from eons of silence. Similarly, her face regains a bit of color and some life returns to her eyes. She may not want to admit it, but contact with other people is good for her, or so he thinks, anyway.

"My armor protects me, though to be on the safe side I won't stay for long," he says with a hint of pride about his creation. To call it armor is not exactly right though, since it is more reminiscent of a tunic. It provides him with weak yellow sun radiation, enough to keep the red star's influence at bay. He grew out of skin-tight clothes after his first couple million years, around the time he stopped calling himself Superman.

"When was the last time you visited humanity?" He is honestly curious about this, since he hasn't seen a human for almost a billion years. Knowing their evolution rate, he wouldn't have recognized them even if he had. Humanity had long ago abandoned Earth to her fate, instead colonizing nearby solar systems and then branching out.

"Not long ago." An ambiguous statement, since for immortals, or near-immortals as Kal was, 'not long ago' can mean anything from a week to millions of years.

"And how are they doing?" His tone is casual, conversational. Diana's mind flashes to meetings in a large room with a circular table in the stratosphere and to late night conversations in front of the fire with the kindest person she had ever met, waiting for the love of her life to return from what he did best. Her throat constricts and a surge of fresh agony surfaces, but nevertheless, she answers in a similar tone.

"Well enough. Their last civil war halved the population. Now they're mending." It was what humanity did, they both knew, having been watching it for nearly the entirety of its existence. Humans progressed, turned on each other, and rallied in unity only to turn on each other again. They would unite when faced with outward threats or when the horrors of their civil wars reached sufficient levels. The cycle was unbreakable so long as humanity existed and its nature remained unchanged.

She knows what his next question will be and she is not disappointed. "Did you check up on your descendants again?" He knows she used to check up on her established line over the years.

"I'm distantly related to a good percentage of humanity by now, but the main family was killed early in the civil war. That was what instigated it." Kal's head, which until now had been gazing ahead nonchalantly, whips to her, frowning. The lines on his face are even more pronounced.

"I'm sorry to hear that." His words are sincere. She shakes her head.

"The line of Wan had no idea of its heritage. It's been too long." Though her words are dismissive, Kal knows this must pain her, as everything that proves her right usually does. Though her children did not receive her immortality, they did receive a longer lifespan, increased tenacity and strength as well as a degree of empathy. Diana's gods were as surprised as she; those blessings were never meant to be hereditary. Diana proved their assumptions on their 'gifts' wrong, not for the last time.

He decides to take a gamble. Earth is on its last legs and Diana's remaining family members have recently been wiped out. Judging from what she's been doing for the last few thousand years, he's willing to bet that she's pretty emotional right now. If he wants to ever have a real discussion with her about certain...things, then now is the time.

"How long have you been reminiscing out here?" he asks, trying his best to keep his voice even.

"I haven't been reminiscing." Denial. He can work with that.

"Come now, Diana. You're standing on the burned remains of Earth during her last years. I'd say you're reminiscing. Indulge me, for old times' sake?" Diana never could resist his innocent tone and slightly pouty face. On his ageing face it looks ridiculous, but it manages to get the immortal Amazon's lips to curve upward just a little bit. The Kryptonian mentally pats himself on the back.

"Fine," she concedes after a silent few seconds, "but just this once." He tips his head in recognition of this, then leans back and supports himself on his elbows. The ground beneath him gives slightly, the rock being in a perpetual half-molten state that neither metahuman is bothered by.

He can see it in her face, in the way her eyes glaze, the moisture that gathers at their corners. He allows himself to remember as much as he can of those billions of years ago. Truthfully, he admits to himself, those years are what he considers his 'life'. Since then he's wandered, going from yellow sun to yellow sun. He's drifted, occasionally belonged, but never as much as he had back then.

To his great surprise, it is Diana who asks the first question. "How much do you remember, Kal?" Her tone is not exactly gentle, but it is a reminder of the Diana of _then_, instead of the bitter old woman standing by him now. Kal-El takes heart from this fact.

"Not a lot, I admit. My body can keep up with the years, but my mind...not so much. I sometimes struggle to remind myself of our friends' names, what my name was, or where I lived. Details are lost to me." It is a source of great grief to him, knowing that he can barely remember the years he was most happy, the years he actually had a purpose and people in his life. And her.

"I remember everything." The Amazon's voice is low, trembling, but Kal has no trouble hearing her. "Another so-called gift from the Olympians. It takes time to bring a certain period to the forefront of my mind, but other than the insignificant events and details, I remember it all. Every year, every day." The significance of this is not lost on the Kryptonian. To live eternally with the memories of all that she'd lost fresh in her mind, he isn't sure he'd be strong enough for it.

She turns to face him and he sees more and more of the old Diana by the second. Her eyes have a wild glint to them, and Kal recognizes that she is almost lost to the memories. "How much of...of Lois, do you remember?"

The question stabs right through the alien who used to go by Clark Kent, but he forces himself to focus. He'd wanted this, wanted them to talk about the distant past. He believes that it will be, if not cathartic, at least helpful for both of them. He concentrates on his few memories and answers as honestly as he ever did.

"Not a lot. What I do remember is probably embellished, but...I remember the important events. How she used to call me Smallville. When I first met her, our first date, our wedding day, the fact that we couldn't have children, her…" He pauses, old misery rearing its ugly head on his voice again. "…her death." The Amazon has no trouble hearing his whisper, either. She chooses to stay silent, mulling over his response.

After a few tense minutes of silence, she is shocked to hear a few faint chuckles emanate from the man beside her. She regards him not with incredulity, but with honest curiosity. What could he possibly find amusing at such a time?

"Do you remember," he asks when his amusement subsides, "how Lois and I became engaged?" He doesn't give Diana enough time to try to remember, instead launching into the tale as it comes back to him.

"We had been going out for a long time, even living together for five months. It seemed like a lifetime, back then. I had gone to Ma even before that and she gave me her engagement ring, telling me she trusted me to do what was right.

"When I finally knew that I wanted to marry her, I was a wreck. I carried the ring with me everywhere for over a week, trying to muster the courage to ask her. Then one night while we were sitting in our living room, she went to the bathroom. She returned, holding the little box in her hand, taken from where I'd hidden it. She handed it to me, and told me to '_get it over with, Smallville_." His imitation of Lois' voice is, as far as Diana can tell, perfect. She's uncertain if he did it consciously or subconsciously, and she does not ask.

"She seemed completely exasperated and I later was informed that she knew from the first day I started carrying it with me. Two months later, we were husband and wife." The smile that had formed on his still-matured face is bittersweet. His memories of his lost love are fond, but they bring the loss to the surface. While he can't honestly say that he still remembers everything about Lois Lane that made him love her then, he knows that after her, nothing seemed to matter and all of his attempts to find the same failed miserably.

Diana contemplates his words with the same faraway look he is sure is on his face. He knows what she is thinking, she feels she owes him a similar revelation. She breathes deeply, steadying her emotions in preparation for her own tale.

"The day Bruce proposed…" Kal gracefully ignores how her tongue gets stuck when she tries to utter his name. "…was, up until then, one of the worst days I'd had since my arrival on Man's World, even my life. We had already been together for about a year by then.

"That morning I was informed that the foundation for the homeless children of Washington that I spent the last two years trying to make, the one that had been open for barely three months, had been the target of a terrorist attack aimed at me. There were no survivors.

"I tried to find the culprits, but there were no leads to follow. Or maybe I couldn't see them, I wasn't Bruce. I flew my jet to Themyscira, seeking my mother's comfort and the familiarity of my homeland and Amazon sisters. She offered me that, as she always did. After I had stopped crying in rage and grief, she told me that she felt that I shouldn't go back to Man's World, because it would only do me more harm.

"I understood later on why she did it, she was simply worried about me because she loved me. At the time though, I didn't understand, not even a little. We had a huge fight, and I ended up leaving in even worse condition. I stopped at our satellite base..." A second of concentration as she tries to remember a name. She idly fiddles with her pendant, which, though it looks unremarkable, must be quite the item to withstand the blasts from the sun. "...the Watchtower, seeking caffeine."

She snorts in a fleeting moment of mirth. "Iced mochas…they don't make those anymore.

"When I saw that the machine was empty, I couldn't take it. I broke down right there at the cafeteria, in front of half the League. No one knew what to do, if they were supposed to approach me or not. J'onn, bless his soul, knew exactly what I needed. He raised me off the floor and gently led me to the Transporter Room.

"I wasn't in the right presence of mind to ask what he was doing, but I soon found myself in the transport pad in the Batcave. I took a few steps and my hysterics stopped for a few moments. When I reached the Batcomputer and the chair turned towards me, I started crying again.

"Poor Damian, I must have scared him half to death. I collapsed at the base of the computer, gripped by illogical depression. I am still unsure as to why I was so badly affected, but I suppose such a breakdown had been building for quite a few years. Robin was yelling frantically in his comlink, but I couldn't hear him. Bruce arrived three minutes later, driving so fast he nearly crashed the Batmobile.

"Bruce's hands replaced Damian's and he held me to his chest as I cried. He didn't speak, not even to ask me what was wrong, as much as I was sure he wanted to. He just held me as I emptied my rage at this world's injustice, my anger at my mother, and my irrational depression over the iced mochas." Diana paused for a heavy breath, clearly lost in her recollection.

"Half an hour later I was quietly sniffling in his hands and he was stroking my hair. He spoke for the first time, asking me to hang on for a bit, and then he got up and walked away from me. I nearly broke down again, but I was coherent enough to listen to him. I watched him calmly approach a wall, press his hand to a piece of stone, and retrieve something from the revealed space within. It was a small metal safe box, which looked pretty heavy and very thick. He retrieved a smaller box from it, and then he walked back towards me.

"My mind was too slow to catch up. I still hadn't figured it out by the time he sat near me and pulled me into his arms again. He opened the box in front of my face and I gazed at the small diamond that Martha Wayne used to wear. He pulled back his cowl and asked me to marry him." She stopped there and Kal had the good sense to pull her in sturdy hug, letting her cry on his shoulder. This is something she needs, he knows, and something she probably never did in the presence of her friends.

"I knew then," she continued in a low voice, "that while he couldn't make the pain go away, he could make it all worth it. That he was the only one who _could_. He already had my heart long ago...Of course, Diana Prince got a much more public proposal a few days later, and though it was all in accordance to his image, it was no less sweet because of it. He—" She stops, unable to speak anymore, and tries to compose herself. She withdraws from Kal, her expression returning to her earlier indifference, not with little effort.

He gives her a few moments of silence, in reverence for what must obviously be one of her most cherished moments. He's not sure how exactly to phrase his next query, but they are both billions of years old. He figures they're well beyond the stage of tip-toeing around their words like teenagers.

"Have you ever tried...after Bruce..." he trails off, not even his billions of years of experience giving him words that will not sound insensitive or cruel.

"To replace him?" She spits the word 'replace' like it is the foulest of language.

He isn't shaken by the venom in her voice. "No, you could never do that. To rebuild your life, perhaps, to heal."

She shakes her head, recognizing that she is being unfair to him, one who is only concerned for her. She decides to go with the honest truth, as he has always liked that.

"A few years after his death, I met a man. I was originally drawn to him by his resemblance to Bruce. Tall, dark of hair, handsome. We spent some time together, until I realized that he was nothing like Bruce. He was open, carefree and expressive. Everything Bruce wasn't." Her face darkens with a frown as she continues her tale. "For a few moments, the most miserable moments of my long existence, I considered it. I considered moving on, letting go of Bruce's memory and living again. Ever since then, I have hated myself for those few moments. No, Kal, there never was anyone and there never will be, because Bruce is _dead_."

She put extra emphasis on her last sentence, like it explained everything and to Kal, it sort of did, but he still had to try. "At risk of sounding cliché, you do know that this is not what he would have wanted, don't you?"

She shakes her head. "I am an Amazon; I gave my heart to him. Bruce, sweet Bruce, knew, even before we got together, that it would end like this. It is why he resisted me so, to spare me the eventual pain. He never said it, but I know. Right though he was, I do not regret it and would do it again. He always knew that, too.

"Of all the many times he has been resurrected, he never once asked me to move on and find someone else to be happy with. He knows me too well for that. My heart may belong to him, but my mind is my own."

He admits to himself that he is impressed. If nothing else, the conviction and passion in her voice are unmistakable. He doesn't even mind the babbling. He figures that they both need to let out many things. Funny thing with immortality, it severs your ties with other people, letting you stew on the same thoughts for endless years. For all the billions of years he's lived, he hasn't spoken as much as he did during those few centuries on Earth. _But wait_, he turns to her, alarmed.

"_Many_ times? You mean it happened again?" he asks, his voice filled with righteous fury at the thought of madmen defiling his best friend's memory more than once.

"Yes. Usually by me. You have to understand, Kal. I had to try, I _had to_. But it wasn't always me, and not always with good intentions. It never worked anyway, not for long, so there's no use talking about it now." She implores him to not pursue the issue further, not just with words, but with her eyes.

He shakes his head, deciding to let it go and get back on track. "I tried to find it again," he admits, and she understands what he means. "I even came close a few times, but it never really worked out. Eventually, I stopped trying. What Bruce was to you, Lois was to me."

At this point, there is something he needs to ask her. He has been trying to find the appropriate time to ask since it happened. Indeed, it is the reason he sought her out now. Before his natural lifespan is over, he needs to know the truth about his chosen brother. He waits a few minutes to gather his thoughts. Neither metahuman is bothered by the silence, since it's their only companion most of the time.

"Diana…" The emotion in his voice snaps her out of whatever memory she was reliving and he knows he has her undivided attention. "You know I was off planet with Hal when it happened…" Her eyes widen, she knows where he's taking this, but he keeps going. "I got an account of it later, but it was patchy and mostly guesswork. Tell me what happened, Diana." His tone is gentle, pleading. He doesn't demand, he begs.

She feels immense guilt for a few moments. In her endless grief, she never thought about how he, or any of their other friends, would feel about it all. She wasn't the only one that missed Bruce. She never got into any real contact with any of them after Bruce's passing. Barry was the last one to give up trying to help her or find out what happened, years after the event.

She had seen little of Superman. She had never considered that his grief over Bruce's death was compounded by the fact that he didn't know what happened, though he respected her grieving enough not to ask. He deserves to know, she thinks.

"Samantha and I were visiting Alfred at the hospital. His time was near, so we felt that we should stay with him as much as possible. Thomas was out on patrol and Bruce was in the Cave, directing him.

"The Cave was invaded. It was one of the Joker's many imitators, but this guy was different. This guy was _good_. He'd somehow figured out that Thomas was Batman and wanted to ambush him. He managed to take out the power, the backup generator, and backup's backup generator along with the Cave's outer sensors in order to get inside.

"I watched the video feeds from the wireless cameras that were still functional later. Bruce resisted. Even at his advanced age, he would have won had the Joker not nailed him with a toxin. Bruce collapsed and the bastard just stood there, laughing. Thomas was alerted when the Cave went dark and he alerted us in turn.

"We went back to find Bruce half-dead from the toxin, with a taunting message near him and the Joker nowhere in sight. Thomas went after him. We…" Kal's patience was legendary even before he had lived for billions of years. He lets her find the words, putting a comforting hand on her back. Her right hand is holding her pendant in a grip strong enough to crush most materials, but it does not budge or dent.

"We tried to save him, used anything and everything we had. Nothing worked. He had been under the influence of the toxin for too long and his body was too frail for anything to work. Both of us in hysterics, we probably botched half the procedures.

"Eventually Samantha suggested we ask for help. The League's medical facilities were no better than the Cave's. Samantha mentioned something about needing a miracle. It clicked to me, that I knew beings who could do miracles, that I _Championed_ beings who could do miracles, that I was serving those beings for the entirety of my life. Surely it would not be arrogant of me to request they save my husband.

"I flew away immediately, headed for Themyscira. Samantha stayed, telling me to hurry. I have never flown as fast before. I reached Themyscira in record time, didn't even pause to greet the contingent of Amazons sent to welcome me. I ran to Athena's temple and prayed to all the gods to heal Bruce, or at least renew him so that he may heal naturally.

"My...my prayers went unanswered. My mother confronted me and we had a fight. When I...when I returned to the Manor, Bruce was on his last breath. He died in my arms." Tears are flowing, but Kal isn't moved. He recognizes that she is omitting big parts of the story.

"The truth, Diana," he says gently, but firmly.

"It is the truth!" she exclaims, but then slumps. "Just not all of it. I...am not proud of what I did that day. I was desperate, and the Gods had betrayed me, even after all I had done for them.

"My mother came to the Temple. She told me that the Gods wouldn't normally help a man, but they would be even less willing to help the one who _soiled_ their Champion." The ancient fury wells up again, the fire reigniting in her eyes as she spits the word 'soiled' with contempt. "I felt rage then. Rage at the Gods, for simply daring. Rage at my mother, who empathized with me for my sadness but blamed it all on poor Bruce for the heinous crimes of being a mortal and a man. Rage at the Amazons who shared her views and detested the man I loved.

"When they tried to force me out of the Temple before I damaged it, I knocked them out, even my mother. I...I tore down Athena's temple, yelling to the sky for her to come forth and answer for this outrage. I went to the other temples, too, and when I got no answers, destroyed them as well.

"Eventually, a god appeared, but I wasn't Athena, or Hera, or even Demeter. It was Ares, grinning ear to ear. He thanked me and Bruce for the opportunity, and then attacked me. I am, and was, a very good warrior, blessed as I was and being raised an Amazon. But he was Ares, the god of war, the personification of fighting. I couldn't win a straight fight.

"My sword was knocked from my hand and lost among the rubble of Ares' own temple. I had cuts all over, all still bleeding. He did, too, but the grin never faded from his face.

"He moved slowly towards me, knowing that as injured and weaponless as I was I couldn't do much. My fingers curled around a dagger, ironically one Ares himself had gifted to the temple ages ago, and when he was close enough I lunged." She has started illustrating with her hands throughout her tale, for whatever reason. It is an unconscious habit that Kal thought she had killed long ago.

"For once, he'd lowered his guard, believing me to be defeated. The knife went clear through his neck and, god or not, he died. Incredulity was his last expression before he evaporated. Simply...gone into the air."

Kal's eyes were getting progressively wider. She had killed a god? It…it's something he never would have believed. _Did not_ believe, when he had inevitably heard the first rumors.

"I could...feel his life energy dissipating. I'd always had a sort of connection to the Olympians, through the gifts they bestowed me with. So as to better serve them." The ease with which she alternated rage and disgust in her voice wasn't quite unexpected, but nevertheless startling. "So when Ares died, I reached through that connection to the dissipating energy and I, for lack of a better word, _took_ some.

"I felt immediately better and my wounds healed. It was a lot like when the goddesses first blessed me, years beforehand. I felt stronger than ever, the energy of the god of war swirling inside me. To this day I'm not sure if it influenced my later actions, but it doesn't really matter." Another pause. More patience.

"Athena appeared. She was always the one they sent to explain things to me, when I either was in doubt or lacking in faith. She tried to reason with me and it would have worked, too, if not for two things. First, I could see her hand, crackling with magical energy as it rested on the pommel of her sword. Second, I could also feel my connection to the gods more clearly than ever before. I felt Athena trying to...trying to reclaim their blessings from me while she talked.

"I couldn't let her. I drew my power as close to myself as I could, and attacked Athena. The goddess was, of course, strong. She was a goddess, they're practically the definition of power. But I had the gifts of the gods, the god of war's power, and great rage. I...I killed Athena, too." The Kryptonian is not surprised anymore, knowing that this can only get worse, and that it never really got any better.

"I reached for Athena's energies as well. The other Olympians were still trying to sever our connection, and without understanding how, I was still stopping them.

"More gods appeared. They no longer bothered with the pretense of speaking. Artemis, Apollo, and Hera herself. The blasted me, they stabbed me, they cursed me. But I was stronger, I was desperate, and I was angry. I killed them, too. Trying to take all their energies was beyond me, because I was almost dead. I got the cut in my arm from Artemis. I think she may have survived, but I'm not sure.

I staggered out of the ruined temple, my eyes clouded with blood. Poseidon, lord of the seas, appeared before me, his face nearly boiling with rage. I knew I could do little to stop him, so I didn't try. He...he killed me, ran me straight through with his trident.

"I welcomed it. I would have thanked Poseidon if I could. I would be there waiting for Bruce when he passed, and we would be together again." There is an ancient sorrow in her face and voice. Kal doesn't know if such a wild fluctuation of emotions is good for her, but it's obvious that she's never spoken about this to anyone, with the probable exception of her children. He anticipates it when her expression changes again. Once more, rage.

"I was denied even that mercy. Hades refused me. He refused me passage to the land of the dead. I can only assume that he did it because I was killing off the rest of the gods, whom he hated, or he did it to see me suffer eternally, because he hated _me_ just as much.

"Whichever his reason, I woke up on Themyscira again, barely alive after Poseidon pulled his trident free. I was reinvigorated just enough to reach blindly through the connection and manage to gather some of Hera's dissipating energy. It healed me enough to get on my feet and attack the god of the seas. I had the advantage because I didn't let him get anywhere near water.

"The fight was brutal, and it spanned most of Themyscira. His energy was far stronger than any of the others, since he was one of the big three. It healed me completely and gave me new powers. I didn't know how to control them then, but I knew where I wanted to be. I wanted to go to Olympus and Poseidon's power took me there."

"I imagine Zeus had something to say about that." He's not sure why he's even _attempting_ humor, but he wants to remind Diana that she's not alone, that she's narrating for him, not just remembering what was probably the worst day of her life. Surprisingly, Diana snorts. Even now, the idea of someone joking about the Olympians brings her some incredulous amusement.

"That he did. He was furious. Strong as I was with all my gifts, having absorbed the power of four gods, and with all my rage giving me strength, he was smacking me around, wielding lightning in various forms. But I would not be denied. I managed to snatch a sword of lightning that he had formed from him, and cut into his chest. He fell, but didn't cry out. Nor did I expect him to, he was Zeus. Bastard that he was, he had dignity.

"I was about to end him, to kill my father for daring to deny Bruce the aid he needed and for sending the gods that I had Championed and worshipped for years to kill me, but Aphrodite intervened. I could have probably killed her, then Zeus, but I didn't.

"Aphrodite held no rage in her eyes, only compassion. She told me that Bruce would soon die and that if I wanted to be there for him, I had to leave that instant. I spat on Zeus, cracked his lightning sword on my knee, and left. I didn't know it then, but the death of so many gods broke Themyscira, because it was only their power that kept the island whole. When Zeus recovered, he and the remaining gods took the surviving Amazons and left our dimension. My mother told me that much in her final message..."

"Go on," he encourages gently. The rage is, once again, gone, replaced with grief. Kal-El doubts that in the billions of years since then Diana has felt anything else. Her bitterness and cynicism is a far cry from the vibrant and happy woman he knows she used to be. A steady stream of tears once again flow from her eyes, but she wasn't sniffling or shivering. She kept going with a steady voice.

"When I came back, Thomas had returned. I didn't know at the time, but he had killed the Joker impersonator. He and Samantha were holding Bruce, crying helplessly. Bruce himself was in a bad state, but he was conscious.

"He looked at the three of us and smiled weakly. He tugged me close and we shared a brief kiss. His eyes, though tired and weak, practically shone. His last words...he _thanked_ me.

"I could never understand why. Was it for not giving up on him, for loving him? Was it for our beautiful children? Was it for showing him happiness when he expected to find none in a world without his parents? I do not know and I don't think I could ever understand. In the end, the only one who could truly understand Bruce was Bruce himself, perhaps with the exception of Alfred.

"We...we mourned them, Bruce and Alfred. Alfred died the same day, though he had no idea what happened in the manor. I am happy he didn't know. If he'd known he'd outlived Bruce, if only for a few hours, he would have been devastated. I think you know the rest."

She turned her eyes to him to see his reaction. She wasn't disappointed. He had never been one to hide his emotions or his opinions. Surprise, sadness, and compassion dance within his eyes. He pulls her close again, putting a comforting hand over her shoulder. She is still crying silently, the tears evaporating as soon as they leave her eyes and the magic protecting her.

"What will you do?" he asks quietly after minutes of silence. He gazes at her with kind eyes and she hates him for a moment. He reminds her so much of what used to be, of when she had a purpose, friends, enemies, beautiful children, and a man she loved more than she loved herself.

Then, the moment passed. "Wait." There is nothing else for her to do, truthfully. She'd accepted that long ago.

She had done everything there was to be done. She'd raged, loved, hated, _felt_. She'd been a mother, a daughter, grandmother, and a wife. She'd been a mentor, a teacher, an ally, and an enemy. She'd been a warrior, a leader, a sovereign, a revolutionary, a diplomat, a wanderer, and a hermit. A hero and a villain. She had lived, and she had died and lived again. She had given and taken life. She'd done it all over the millennia. There was nothing left.

She would never take her own life, not deliberately. But there is nothing for her in this universe besides death, whenever it may come. All of this she doesn't say, but all of this he hears from her.

"I'm surprised you never asked me, truthfully."

"Would you have done it?" she challenges him, cold bitterness in her voice and eyes. They both know his answer.

"No."

"That's why I didn't ask you."

"I'm surprised, nonetheless."

This time the silence is deafening in its buildup. Diana has stopped crying. Her rage and sorrow are gone, too. She is gazing at the red sun not with indifference, but with an air of nostalgia. Like a visit to a memorial, or a viewing of old family photos.

"I'm glad you visited, Kal-El. You have been, and always will be, my best friend. I'm glad we met here, at Earth's end. But I need to be alone right now."

His kind eyes fill with understanding. He knows he is not the one she wants—needs—to see. Back in the day, people used to call Superman a fool for wearing his emotions on his sleeve, or not hesitating to show them at all. For being so unconditionally generous with his kindness. Bruce was one of those people. Diana disagreed with him then and even now she still does. It is one of Kal's best qualities. One she wishes she had retained, for she, too, had it once.

"I understand, Diana Wayne. It was good to see you." The Kryptonian gets on his feet, the molten ground hissing angrily below him, vapor flowing freely. As he makes to fly away, the last Amazon takes hold of his hand. He turns to peer down at her.

"I would like to see you again...at least once." He understand what she is asking and he can only nod in assent. It is cruel of him to keep reminding her that she knows no other truly immortal being, but is crueler still to deprive her of her only remaining friend.

"Yes, of course."

He gazes one last time at the sun that fueled him for the beginning of his life and the remains of the planet that had been his home for the most important part of it before floating away, vanishing from sight and soon leaving the system altogether.

Diana, now alone with her thoughts, returns her gaze to the red star. Thoughts of Kal, of Hippolyta, of Thomas and Samantha, and of Bruce float lazily in her mind.

Some people spend their whole lives seeking immortality. Their reasons are petty, their results equally pathetic, but they are fortunate in their failure.

They are weak and stupid, hence they do not understand. They _cannot_.

Immortality is not a gift, it is a curse. The worst fate imaginable.

And it is all she has left.

_**Fin**_

* * *

_******Welcome******_

_******To the Star Sapphires******_

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~W~

~W~

~W~

Disclaimer: Batman, Superman, and Wonder Woman are the property of DC Comics and associates. I claim no ownership nor profits from this work of fiction.

Acknowledgements: All hail our Lord and Master, Dinasis. He has provided the inspiration for this story, and then took responsibility and Beta-read it. Go read his stuff. The-Lady-Isis provided some insights which proved useful. So thanks.

Ending comments:

For those of you who have read The New 52 Justice League, I have this to say:

Fuck Steve Trevor. And fuck Superman.

For those of you who haven't read it, I have this to say:

_Don't._


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